Chuck vs Hereditary Traits
by Kensington
Summary: The organizations interested in the unique capabilities of Chuck's brain are not limited to those of man. A BtVS/Chuck xover.
1. Prologue: Spring Equinox

Disclaimer: I have no tangible stake in either Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Chuck, so it follows that I neither anticipate nor expect any profit what-so-ever from this endeavor. (Unless Joss Whedon finally recognizes that I am a Nigerian Prince and wires me money.)

Author's Note: This story is inspired in part by Keldin's 'Strangeness at the Buy More', which was my initial exposure to Chuck, and The wander's 'Family Ties'.

This story is canon through Chosen and Not Fade Away for Btvs and Angel respectively. For Chuck, it can be considered canon through Chuck vs the Ex.

Big thanks to verkisto for proofreading this beast. Her knowledge of grammar and punctuation is inhuman.

Comments and Critique as always are welcome.

* * *

**March 20, 2010  
30 Miles North of Yellowknife, NT, Canada**

It had been a shitty year for Ryan Cooper.

Twelve months ago, things were going great for him. He was between assignments, enjoying the bars of Adams Morgan in DC and the co-eds that populated them. His star was rising fast in the Agency. In September of 2008, unknown circumstances had eliminated Director Graham and several other top agents for the CIA, resulting in a fast climb up the ranks for him.

Cooper had been enjoying a crabcake sandwich with a cold Yuengling at the Front Page Restaurant and Grille when a Colonel Tom Billingsley joined him and congratulated him for how well he had performed his high-profile missions during the past half-year. The Colonel had been looking for someone like him to take on additional duties. Go above and beyond to protect the homeland.

Join Fulcrum.

Too bad he didn't realize until seven months later that Fulcrum was considered a terrorist organization. That bloody October night, where over twenty of his team members were killed by a NSA wetworks team. All over that idiot Bartowski. How Roberts thought that Bartowski was the Intersect was beyond Cooper.

It was ridiculous. The only connection that Cooper could discover between Bartowski and Larkin was that Larkin stole Roberts from Bartowski and, five years later, Bartowski stole Larkin's girlfriend. That type of partner swapping led to bad blood, not the level of trust required to exchange top secret data.

Cooper lucked out by manning a sentry post far out from the warehouse they had been operating out of; the government task force had slipped right past him. Seeing that they weren't exactly taking prisoners, Cooper bugged out to a safe house he established for himself in Palmdale. From there, he had steadily progressed north, keeping as low a profile as possible.

Now he was fired from his job and considered a traitor to his country. He felt like Ted Kaczynski living in his little cabin north of Yellowknife. At least none of the locals thought he was a crazy hermit yet; they bought his story that he was a writer from Ottawa looking for inspiration in the wilderness.

Which led to today: the shitty feather in the shitty cap for this shitty year. He had been trudging through five feet of snow (global warming was a fucking myth for pussy liberals), looking for a suitable log to chop off for firewood, when someone decided to take a whack at his head.

Cooper awoke to find himself bound, spread-eagled, to a stone slab, naked except for a strange sticky substance covering his torso. A single torch flickered, reflecting off of stone walls. His head throbbed, exacerbated by the freezing temperatures he was subjected to. He could hear sharp cracks associated with ice, indicating he was near one of the numerous lakes in the region. What the hell happened?

"Mr. Cooper, are you capable of speaking?" an accented voice inquired. Definitely from one of the Commonwealth nations. A thin, tanned, young-looking Caucasian man entered his line of sight, looking as if he had just stepped out of an L.L. Bean catalog.

How in the hell did this man know his real name? He went to speak, but his teeth chattered too hard to form words.

"Oh, dear me, I forgot the effect elements could have on plain ol' Homo Sapiens," the man said. What the hell did this psycho mean by that? His attention was quickly drawn back towards the man, as he began to chant in an unknown language. Suddenly warmth cascaded over Cooper's body. "Is that more suitable?"

"Yes," Cooper bit out.

The man clapped. "Capital!" The man snapped his fingers sharply. To Cooper's dread, a heavy shuffling sound could be heard from beyond his vision, approaching. "Now, I'm afraid I don't have time for you to resist, so my companion here will assist with your participation."

It was too big to be real. Standing at roughly nine feet tall, with sporadic lumps lining its sickly pale skin, the thing advanced until it stood directly in front of him. A sweet smell overtook Cooper. A giggle escaped from his mouth.

"Excellent. Now, I'm afraid that my business has been impinged upon by a very annoying organization. I need information on them. Unfortunately, they're very good at covering their tracks with these newfangled electronics. Smashing really, the advancement electricity has wrought," the man noted in such a fascinating tone.

"I digress. Anyhoo, I caught wind a year ago that, through some fluke, a copy of the American Intersect was uploaded into the head of a plain old human. Unless some blasted Wicca already caught him, there's a good chance all the information I want is within this poor chap."

Cooper frowned at the pause in the man's story. "Oh, sorry. Lost my train there. Long story short, you Fulcrum folks aren't nearly as good at circumventing the Intersect. So I kept my eyes out for you, and lo and behold, I found you. Now, do you know who the human Intersect is?"

"No," Cooper nearly sobbed out at the prospect of failing.

It hurt to see the man frown in visible disappointment at Cooper's answer. "Blast. Next question. Tell me all you know about the potential identity of the human Intersect."

Without a second thought, Cooper explained Larkin's betrayal along with the likelihood that Larkin himself was the human Intersect. He added that Bartowski was possibly involved, but the odds were remote. "They stole each other's women. When we cased Bartowski we discovered that his place of employment had a virtual club dedicated to hating Larkin for what he did."

To Cooper's relief, a smile formed on the lips of the man. "Well, I must thank you. You've been extremely helpful and have given me some food for thought." The man reached into his parka and withdrew a knife. "Now, waste not, want not and all that rubbish. It's been a pleasure Mr. Cooper."

Ryan Cooper's face lit up with a brilliant smile at the praise as the man began to carve along the lines painted onto his chest.


	2. Chapter One: Amber Alert

A/N: Once again, big thanks to verkisto for her impeccable assistance with betaing this. Any errors are mine.

C&C as always, is welcome.

Enjoy the story!

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**October 11, 2010  
Redondo Beach, CA, United States**

John Casey growled as the detective left the Bartowski residence. The urge to inflict pain grew as renewed sobs could be heard from the nursery. For all the shit he gave Bartowski and Walker, they sure as hell didn't deserve to have this happen to them.

As he shut the door to the Redondo Beach residence, a sharp trill emanated from his pocket. Thankful for the distraction, he placed the offending device to his ear. "Casey."

"Major Casey," came the tired voice of General Beckman, "get the Bartowskis into their office. We may have a breakthrough. I'll be waiting for the video conference."

Hoping that this would result in some imminent violence, Casey climbed the stairs to the nursery. Peeking in, to his dismay, nothing had changed. Bartowski idly handled a stuffed bear, staring blankly out the window. Ellie sat on the bench, cradling a sobbing Walker. Walker crying more than freaked him out. While she had lacked the edge that he carefully cultivated for himself, she was at least competent for a spook. To see her dissolve into this mess of hormones was just downright depressing. Bartowski was partly to blame for sure; he was the one who had domesticated Walker. Still, even Casey's crusty heart was hurt and pissed as a result of the events of the past two days.

"Bartowski, Walker, Beckman wants to talk to you two now," Casey stated, as he gestured downstairs towards the office. "I don't want to get your hopes up, but she says they may have a breakthrough."

Hope flared momentarily in Bartowski's eyes before he schooled his face. In light of the circumstances, Casey refrained from making his typical comments as Bartowski embraced Walker and encouraged her to stand up. Fucking pigs had done a real job on her. To his everlasting relief, the waterworks subsided into sputtering hiccups and Bartowski got her to head downstairs.

"John," Ellie called out, before he could follow the Bartowskis downstairs, "I'm going to help Devon in the kitchen. Do you guys need any drinks while I'm there?"

The prospect of Woodcomb-vintage food made his stomach growl, reminding him that he had skipped breakfast. "Don't bother, we'll be good," Casey assured her, as he headed out of the nursery.

Entering the office, Casey repressed a sigh when he saw that the leather couch had been taken over by the Bartowskis. That left him with that damn chair with a stiff spine. At least the only sign of Walker's crying jag were red eyes and blotchy skin.

A ping chimed to signal the satellite connection was established, prompting Casey to close the door and seal the room.

"Agent Bartowski, Mr. Bartowski, thank you for your prompt arrival," General Beckman greeted them. It was disconcerting to see baggy eyes marring the normally impeccable appearance of Beckman. "Before we proceed, do you swear that the events you told the local authorities are accurate, Agent Bartowski?"

To Casey's satisfaction, Walker's face flushed red in anger. It was good to see something other than grief. "Yes! I'm not crazy, I swear," Walker protested. "I know it was impossible, but I know I saw –"

"That will be enough Agent Bartowski," Beckman interrupted, holding up her hand. "The following information is far beyond all three of your security clearances, but I've received special disposition to bring you into the fold."

Even Casey gave in to the urge to grin, having received the first tantalizing hint of good news in two days.

Beckman sighed in response. "Don't get too excited. I've had to do a lot of groveling to get this organization to even hear you out."

Bartowski finally lost his cool. "What kind of people would refuse to help when –"

"Bartowski!" Beckman snapped. "Unfortunately, there is good reason for this organization to be hesitant to associate with the Federal Government, especially the NSA. My predecessor attempted to capture some operatives of this organization. They are the reason that he is six feet under and I was promoted to this position one-star short of what I should have been." Casey shared an uneasy look with the Bartowskis at this pronouncement. "There is an unofficial standing executive order that, in all interactions with this organization, we are to be deferential in our behavior. Is that understood?"

The trio nodded their agreement.

For the first time during the conversation, Beckman smiled softly. "I'm glad we're on the same page. Once we get their representative in this conference, I'm going to want you to recount precisely what happened, Agent Bartowski. Are you up to it?"

Jutting her chin out, Walker stared back at the screen defiantly. "As long as I don't get called 'mentally disturbed and delusional' again, I'll do whatever it takes to get my baby back."

Beckman snorted in response. "Trust me, these people won't call you crazy. Hold on a moment while we patch –"

Surprise flickered across Beckman's face as her portion of the screen was halved. A black expanse filled the new half of the screen with the words 'SOUND ONLY' dominating the top portion and 'IWC Representative Rosenberg' displayed on the bottom.

"No need to patch me in, General," a detached female voice chimed in. To Casey's surprise he swore he saw something akin to fear on Beckman's face before she schooled her expression. "Mr. and Mrs. Bartowski, my condolences for your situation. I hope that we will be able to assist you in the safe and speedy retrieval of your child."

Caution warred with gratitude on both Bartowski and Walker's faces before they simultaneously said, "Thank you." It always freaked Casey out when they two of them acted in sync.

"Our pleasure," the voice responded with a hint of warmth. "Now Agent Bartowski, would you be so kind as to describe precisely what happened yesterday morning."

Walker wrung her hands in blatant distress. "It was right after eight in the morning yesterday. Chuck had just left for work and I realized that Alex had been uncharacteristically quiet. Even though at night he sleeps in the crib in our bedroom ever since we took him home from the hospital, I placed him in his crib in the nursery after his morning feeding shortly before six yesterday morning." Walker leaned into Bartowski, attempting to compose herself. "There were two men inside the nursery," Walker explained haltingly.

"I withdrew my pistol immediately, but the one closest to me grabbed Alex and held him as a shield. I… I had no clear shot. The man looked strange. His skin was nearly bright orange, as if he had spent too much time in a tanning booth gone wrong, and there were these odd growths all over his face," Walker said despondently. Casey didn't blame her. At this point in the story yesterday, the police had drawn Bartowski aside and asked if she had been taking hallucinogens. It had been a bitch getting those assaulting an officer charges dropped.

"The second man at this point just stared at me. He was Caucasian, short, I'd say around five feet six inches, and spoke with an Eastern Seaboard accent. My bet would be from a New York borough. He was wearing a black leather jacket and an ugly hat, like something K-Fed might wear."

A muffled curse came from the speakers. "Hold on a moment," the voice instructed. Ten seconds later, a pencil sketch of a dough-faced male appeared on the screen. "Is this your guy?"

A sharp hiss could be heard as recognition flared in Walker's eyes. "Yes, that's the man."

"The only name we have for him is Whistler," the voice lectured. "In the past, he's claimed to be an emissary from higher powers. We have had two known encounters with him. His MO has been to simply deliver unwanted news in an annoying manner. Kidnapping babies is new to us. Did he say anything to you?"

Walker nodded. "He said, 'Sorry lady, but he's needed elsewhere.' Then," Walker paused to compose herself, "something happened. I don't know what it was, but the air distorted around them and they all disappeared."

"Were there any patterns in the distortion?" the voice asked. "Like, did it swirl or ripple? We're trying to narrow down the species of the other sentient."

Other species? Shit, this lady was starting to make Walker sound like the only sane one in the room. Walker looked trapped between being ecstatic that a person in authority wasn't questioning her mental state and being in despair over the abduction of his godson.

"It… I guess it was like a cluster of small bubbles forming," Walker replied, her forehead scrunched in concentration.

"All right, I'm tasking people to start researching what it might have been," the voice replied, the screen switching back to its previous state. "What is the full name of your son? I'll get some people to start mining databases in case someone slipped and inserted your son's real name into something official."

"Alexander Elliot Bartowski," the Bartowskis answered again simultaneously. Thank god Casey would never have to deal with this sappy shit; his heart was safe with some French agent he'd never see again.

"On it. You're damn lucky I'm in town right now," the voice noted. "If you're willing, we'll send out a car to pick the two of you up and bring you back to our offices. There, we can conduct some more esoteric and effective searches for your son."

Bartowski nodded his consent immediately, but Walker stared cautiously at the screen.

A sigh was heard over the speakers. "Don't worry, feel free to bring all the weapons you want with you, if it makes you feel better. And, no, Major Casey will not be welcome. Unless something drastic happens, no NSA personnel will be permitted in our facilities."

There was a silent exchange between Bartowski and Walker before Walker caved and nodded her consent. Casey suppressed the urge to tear whomever this woman was a new hole for besmirching his beloved organization. She was offering to help get his godson back.

"All right, the car will be there within the hour. Depending on how long this takes, dinner will be on us, if necessary. We will consider it a courtesy if you don't tail the car back to our offices. We assure you that both Bartowskis will be returned unmolested unless this is a Trojan horse. You do remember the consequences, right, General Beckman?"

Beckman twitched, to Casey's amusement and horror. When she had composed herself, she replied, "I assure you that this is all above board. The last lesson your Council gave us, Ms Rosenberg, should hopefully last a generation or two."

"Glad to hear. I need to prepare for your arrival, so I'll see you two in person shortly." Representative Rosenberg's half of the screen abruptly blinked out of existence, restoring General Beckman's visage to the full screen.

"I'm not pleased that you're going to physically place yourself in their custody, Mr. Bartowski," Beckman chided. Bartowski's gaze simply became even more defiant, while Walker stared at him in a concerned manner. The thought of Bartowski walking into the den of an organization that scared Beckman probably didn't even cross her mind. Sloppy.

"Don't get me wrong, you will be perfectly safe. I'm more concerned that they'll try to recruit you," Beckman noted wryly. "They specialize in employing people with unique abilities. On that note, I wish you the best of luck."

The signal cut out, leaving the three of them alone in the office.

Moments later, Bartowski stood up, extending a hand to Walker. "We should probably clean up a bit. I don't think either of us have taken a shower since yesterday." Walker accepted his hand, giving Bartowski a fragile smile before unsealing the room and heading out.

Bartowski went to follow her but paused at the door and looked back towards Casey. "Mind watching over the house with Ellie and Awesome while we're gone in case any developments happen?" Casey nodded; it was the least he could do. "Thanks. Oh, Morgan will join you guys at five after he finishes his shift." With that parting comment, Bartowski was off to follow Walker.

Motherfucker. Now he had to deal with Grimes on top of everything else? Casey hoped that those bastards responsible for kidnapping his godson were found quickly; the urge to kill was getting hard to ignore.

* * *

**Long Beach, CA, United States**

Scratching her ass, Faith decided it was time to finally get out of bed. She glanced at the clock, which displayed that it was nearly three in the afternoon. Hot damn, she sure had caught up on her beauty sleep. Not that she needed it, in her expert opinion.

Opening her blinds, Faith grunted as the sunlight streamed into the room, causing her to blink. From her fourth floor unit, she could see traffic on the 710 backed up beyond her line of sight. Thankfully, she wasn't going to be a dumb bitch planning on driving during rush hour today.

She completed her morning ritual of stretching out the kinks and taking a piss. It was time to face the day and be responsible. Throwing on a pair of jeans with a shirt covered by a light jacket, Faith moseyed out of her door and stepped into the elevator. Two floors later, she stepped into the Los Angeles offices of Global Heritage and Antiquities Foundation. It was convenient to work at home.

Faith waved to Sandra Grey, the head Watcher for the Los Angeles branch of the IWC. Grey reminded Faith of her first watcher in all the right ways. The older sister to a slayer from Flagstaff, Grey had a vested interest in looking out for the five Slayers under her care. Didn't hurt that she was wicked smart too. Add in six months stationed with Havok and Grey wasn't shy about fighting dirty.

Opening the door to her office – huh, never thought she'd have an office – Faith noticed to her relief that there was nothing in her inbox. She could have sworn she was forgetting something, though –

"You took your sweet time waking up today."

Oh, yeah, Red was arriving this morning to drop off that Wicca Grey had requested over a year ago. Good to see the Coven was so timely in its assistance. Los Angeles may no longer have a regional Hellmouth, but it did have the second-highest concentration of Slayers for a city in North America. Plastering a smile on her face, Faith turned to greet her colleague, who was lounging in a chair stashed in the corner. Damn, Red was dressed all fancy-like in a black suit-dress. Faith wasn't sure what it was called, but it looked like something a politician would wear. "Sorry, Red, was up 'til six this morning on a conference call with Cleveland and Tiko discussing the state of the Slayer."

Unexpectedly, Red smiled softly and snorted. "I'm sorry. It's been over six years, but whenever I think of Xander establishing a continental headquarters on a plantation outside of a town named Tiko, I just crack up."

Faith shrugged and returned a genuine smile this time as she sat her ass down in her leather chair behind her desk. "What can I say, Havok had to go find a town whose name fit his wardrobe. I just can't believe that D followed his ass out there."

To Faith's surprise, Red shot her a sly smile. Maybe Red was defrosting after over a decade of giving her the cold shoulder. "That's probably more due to Dawnie wanting to get away from evil boyfriend number three of Buffy's."

"No shit," Faith replied, rolling her eyes. "I'm just glad to be living proof that being a Slayer doesn't mean you're doomed to fuck your prey. I'm perfectly satisfied with my streak of living-dildos, none of which have tried to kill me. Speaking of B, I haven't spoke to her in a while. She still want to hang Havok's balls over the fireplace, or do those two now co-exist in a state of détente?" Seeing the incredulous look on Red's face, Faith schooled a hurt expression on her face. "What?"

"You used a word like 'détente' in the appropriate context, wow," Red uttered, apparently in shock. "What's the temperature in hell right now?"

"Ah, shut your trap, you snobby bitch," Faith retorted, scowling. "You think I can't pull fancy words out of my ass like the rest of you edu-ma-cated people?" At this, Red merely raised an eyebrow. "Fine, fine. I was tracking a vamp that for some reason was skipping all the prime meals. Followed it into a lecture hall at Occidental. Dude up front was going on about U.S. foreign relations during the Cold War. To my surprise, the vamp actually pulled out a notebook and started to take notes." Faith paused to let Red finish chortling.

"So I had a wannabe politician vamp on my hands. Decided to stake his ass before he graduated via night class or whatever in case he decided to go to law school. No need to let this dude make the Triforce of Evil. You know, vamp, politician, lawyer," Faith said, ticking off each 'evil' with a finger.

Red had now begun to giggle like some school kid. "'Triumvirate' I believe is the word you're looking for. Triforce is from Zelda."

Faith shrugged. "Triumvirate, Triforce, same thing. I'll blame Havok for that. I spent two weeks at his place last month playing his games and sucking up to D."

A puzzled expression appeared on Red's face. "Why were you sucking up to Dawn?"

"You do know she has a bun in the oven, right?" Faith asked. Red nodded, as expected. Sad as it was, Red was probably Havok's first call. "I'm totally lobbying to be that brat's godmother."

Outrage blossomed on Red's face. "No way, missy! I'm not the one who tried to kill … Wait, I did. Never mind. Still, we grew up together! I'm going to be the godmother."

It was nice to see that she could now push Red's buttons without having her eyes turn black. "Nah, remember who the beloved head of his security detail is? That's right, your ex," Faith drawled out, grinning at how Red flinched. "Now, which one of us is on speaking terms with everyone's favorite rich bitch of a carpet muncher? She's already singing my praises on a daily basis. Hence, my lobbying trumps your emotional appeals."

Red's mouth opened and closed like a guppy. "First, that's just low. Second, 'lobbying'? Seriously, are you watching C-SPAN these days, Faith?"

Kicking her feet beneath her desk, Faith placed her hand over her mouth and batted her eyes in an attempt to look demure. "Sorry Red, a girl's gotta keep some secrets. Maybe over some wine tonight I'll let you explore my hidden depths."

Point, set and match. Red's face attempted to match her hair.

"Why are you still here, anyways?" Faith asked, before Red could retort. "I figured you'd bail as soon as you dropped off the newbie."

"Well, while you were sleeping, I was on the phone with the head lady of the NSA," Red stated, as she reached into her tote bag.

"What the fuck?" Faith spat out, standing up. "Why were you talking to those shits?"

In response, she got two thick folders tossed to her. Scowling at Red, Faith parked herself back in her seat.

"Two CIA agents got a visit by Whistler and an unknown demon. Their three-week old son was kidnapped."

Faith deflated at that news. "I guess that's a worthy cause," Faith noted, as she began to scan the top folder. "Damn, this babe is stone cold. I can't believe they sent you all this classified four-one-one."

"Please, I had Tyler hack the Intersect," Red said, the smirk audible. "It's kind of cute how clueless they are that their top secret databases are completely vulnerable to techno pagans."

"Huh," Faith muttered, as she progressed to the second folder. "So you mentioned Whistler. Who was demon number two?"

"No clue," Red offered, in an all-too-chipper tone. "I have London and Hong Kong looking up the answer for me. I'm so glad I'm no longer research girl."

Issuing a non-committal grunt, Faith focused back on the file of Charles Bartowski. Did the government seriously have eighteen pages detailing the different types of video games he played?

Kate Perry's _I Kissed a Girl_ filled the room, causing Red to blush as she picked up her cell phone. "Uh huh." A pause. "That doesn't sound good. E-mail what you got to s-dot-grey-at-iwc-dot-org. Instruct her to print it out immediately. Thanks, David," Red said, before she snapped her phone shut. "Hong Kong got a hit on our demon. It's a doozy."

"Real subtle ringtone there, Red," Faith drawled out, ignoring the subject of the demon.

A sharp knock on the doorframe halted whatever rebuttal Red may have had. "Ms Rosenberg, the supplies are ready for you in the conference room. All that is missing are the blood samples," a pert-looking Asian woman said, standing in the doorway.

"Thank you Ahram," Red replied, standing up from her chair. "Faith, this is Ahram Ko. She's from the Halifax Coven. Ahram, this is Faith Lehane. She's the Senior Slayer for the Los Angeles branch of the IWC."

Faith idly raised a hand and gave the new witch a wave. "Pleasure."

"No, the pleasure's all mine," Ahram gushed, drawing a raised eyebrow from Faith. "Sorry, I know I'm a bit hyper right now. I'm just so ecstatic about finally getting a posting, and it's one with the IWC!" Now Red was joining in with the blank stares, although she was at least able to give a polite smile. "Sorry, I also had a double-shot espresso about five minutes ago. I think I'll head upstairs and start unpacking."

The girl shot off like a ping-pong ball, leaving the two women to stare blankly at her after-image.

"You gave me a hyper chick just to piss me off, didn't ya, Red?" Faith asked, after a few moments of awkward silence.

Looking a tad guilty, Red shrugged. "I never met her before picking her up last night in Montreal." Translation: I read the personnel reports and decided to unload her on you.

As Faith went to open her mouth to retort, _I Kissed a Girl_ once more filled the room.

"All right, I'll be right down in the lobby," Red said briskly, as she shut her phone and picked up her tote bag. "Our CIA friends are here. Do you want to sit in on the meeting in the Conference Room?"

Faith shrugged as she rose out of her chair. "Sure, why not?" Faith drawled, as she followed Red out of the conference room. They paused while Red picked up the info regarding the second demon from the printer. "You're not going to stick me with doing the 'one girl in the world' speech, are ya?"

"Nope," Red assured her, as they arrived in front of the elevator doors. "I had Jenny and Natasha pick them up, so they got tasked with giving them the speech."

"In that case, I'll go claim my seat," Faith said, as she headed down the hall to the conference room. "Don't worry, I won't touch any of your crap," Faith commented, preempting any complaint from Red.

The conference room was refreshingly simple. A long table dominated it, with several office chairs bought at Costco spread out for optimal sitting arrangements. The east wall held a large screen for playing videos, if necessary. Faith sighed when she saw that the heavy drapes had been opened. The window facing the south went wasted in this room. Although it provided a spectacular view of palm trees and the towering hotels of the Long Beach Marina, it left them far too exposed to any potentially malicious eyes.

Closing the drapes, Faith plopped down in a chair and checked out Red's supplies. A divining crystal was laid out over a stack of maps. A small stone basin rested next to them, with a stash of various herbs set out by type next to it. Witchcraft reminded her far too often of the few chemistry classes she had attended. Last time she attended one, she accidentally spilled some acid or base on her partner. Shortly thereafter, her Watcher was dead and it was time to get the hell out of Dodge.

The sound of voices approaching caught her attention, putting Faith on alert. Faith was not pleased that Red had invited government spooks into _her_ building.

Upon seeing the pair entering the room behind Red, Faith relaxed slightly. They looked like complete shit. Well, the woman was a looker and the guy definitely had the attractive dork look going for him, but the utter despair in their posture and glazed eyes the two were sporting showed two parents broken by the abduction of their child. Wait – they were still CIA goons, though. The chick – Lady Bond – had at least fifteen knives on her, by Faith's count, and a pistol stashed near her ass. That made them broken parents who were ready to mete out vengeance upon those who hurt their child. Faith could respect that.

"Take whichever seats you wish," Willow offered, playing the role of host. "Faith, Mr. and Mrs. Bartowski. This is Faith, the Senior Slayer of the Los Angeles branch."

Lady Bond immediately focused on Faith like a predator. Looked like she understood the implications of what a Slayer was. Her boy gave her a half-amazed stare; he was obviously still trying to wrap his mind over his expanded viewpoint of reality.

"Yo," Faith chipped in, attempting to defuse Lady Bond. "Sorry to hear about what happened. Don't worry, Red here is the best at what she does."

Lady Bond's expression softened to return to the façade of neutrality she was sporting when she entered. "Thank you," she said softly, before turning to focus back on Red.

"Call me Chuck," the man offered, flashing her a sad smile.

"Sure thing, Chuckles."

A soft cough came from the front of the room. "Before we start, did Natasha withdraw blood samples from the two of you?" Willow asked, doing an excellent impression of a schoolmarm. With a wary expression on her face, Lady Bond handed over a pair of vials. "Excellent. Now, lets start off with the bad news."

A whimper escaped from the lips of Lady Bond, as Chuckles tightened his grip on her hand. Way to go Red.

"We believe we have identified the other demon," Red stated, handing a sheet to Lady Bond. "This is what the unknown demon looked like, correct?"

Lady Bond nodded.

"All right. Until yesterday, there have been only two recorded sightings of this demon, both in East Asia," Red lectured, oblivious that these people didn't want an explanation – they just wanted their child back. "We don't have a name translated for it in English, so I won't bother. The problem is, this demon transcends time and space, as we comprehend it, at least. The woodblock carving I showed you came from a monk who encountered one in the late 13th century near the city of Wuhan. Well, it's called Wuhan today, but it wasn't then." Red trailed off for a moment when she realized she was babbling.

"Anyways, one day, the monk was right outside his temple when the demon grabbed him. According to the manuscript, the monk experienced an alien sensation and found himself in the middle of an unknown temple. Now, this is where things get weird. There was documentation of the monk living in the late 13th century before his abduction. This manuscript was found at the unknown temple, near what is today known as Shenyang. The date of his arrival in this document translates into the Gregorian calendar as roughly 1150 A.D. Other manuscripts by contemporary monks apparently verify this account. The monk was transported over a thousand miles across China and to nearly a century before his birth."

"What exactly are you saying?" Chuckles asked, with a lost look on his face. Faith saw Lady Bond's expression harden. CIA or not, Faith would be willing to help subdue Whistler and this mystery demon to let her stab the shit out them.

Red sighed wearily. "I'm saying you need to prepare for your son to no longer be just shy of three weeks old. It's possible that he was sent back a century or, who knows, maybe sent forward a century." Both parents sported looks of disbelief on their faces. Faith figured, though, it was aimed at the overall situation, not the facts. Whoever did their 'the world is older than you know it' speech did a damn good job. Faith would have to find out which girl it was and delegate all future speeches to them.

"Now, here's what I can do. Using a mixture of your blood, I can scry to find any immediate relatives. Parents, siblings, children. And due to the particulars of your situation, I'll also scry for any other descendants. We'll start off with a map of the Los Angeles region and progress from there, all right?"

"Do it," Lady Bond ordered, before tempering her request with "please."

Faith watched with disinterest as Red mixed some herbs together in the basin, poured the blood in and set it on fire. Red then took the divining crystal and doused it in the gunk she had created. She then laid out a map of the Los Angeles region. Chanting in what Faith recognized as Latin, Red began to swing the crystal over the map. Faith stood up to be able to see where exactly the crystal would point to on the map.

Three short pillars of green rose up immediately.

"All right, these two are you two," Red said, pointing at the two pillars virtually on top of each other. "Who is this in Redondo?"

Chuckles and Lady Bond answered simultaneously.

"My sister –"  
"Ellie –"

How cute.

"All right, I'm going to switch to a map of the United States," Red informed them, reaching out to the pile beside her.

Once more Red repeated the dousing of the crystal and the chanting in Latin. This time, four green pillars rose out of the map, one from what looked to be Colorado.

"That would be my dad," Lady Bond said, a scowl briefly appearing on her face. "He's in ADX Florence."

Faith barely stopped herself from letting loose a whistle of appreciation. Hah, she could exercise restraint when it was appropriate.

Red frowned momentarily before unfolding a large map of the world. Once more, the chanting started.

Three pillars in California. One in Colorado. Moments passed where nothing else rose up as Red covered the Americas, Europe and Asia. Sweat was visible on Red's brow as she worked her magic.

Two pillars of green rose up. West Africa.

Both Bartowskis gasped as they stared at the pillars.

In relief, Red slumped back down into her chair. "Give me a moment to relax from channeling that much energy. So who do you know in - is that Nigeria or Cameroon?"

A look passed between the Bartowskis. "No… It could be my mother," Chuckles suggested hesitantly. "I haven't seen her since I was sixteen."

Faith squinted, looking in. "Hey, you guys are in luck. Looks like your mystery relatives are right on top of our facilities in Tiko," Faith said, in what she hoped to be a reassuring tone. "We could easily task a team to look for your son there."

An appreciative smile came from Chuckles, but Lady Bond refused to break her game face. "Thank you," Chuckles said, his voice deep with emotion. "You've given us a lead, at least. I still can't believe we're seeing real magic. Now we can –"

"Excuse me, Ms Rosenberg?" Sandra's voice came from the PA system. "There is a Priority Merlin call for you from Watcher Summers. Repeat, there is a Priority Merlin call for you from Watcher Summers. Please come up to the communications room immediately."

Willow turned her head up, a look of shock on her face, as the message played. Faith didn't blame her. Priority Merlin meant somebody needed assistance with magic, pronto. Last time Havok called it in, some douche of a Warlock was trying to enslave a good portion of Uganda so he could use its population in a ritual sacrifice, in order to summon an Old One. No one had been pleased when that dick had escaped.

Standing up, Willow was halfway out the room before she turned back and said, "Sorry, I need to take this."

"Send Havok my love!" Faith called out after her, before returning to her seat.

Chuckles and Lady Bond spoke over one another once more.

"Havok?"  
"Priority Merlin?"

Priceless.

Faith pointed to Lady Bond. "I'll answer yours first. Priority Merlin means that there's some serious shit going down, magic-related. The fact that Red here was requested by name, I give it fifty-fifty odds that we have a potential Apocalypse happening." That finally broke Lady Bond's cool, and her face paled.

"Now for you, Chuckles. I'm guessing you're a dork, right?"

Color returned to Chuckles' face as he frowned at her. "Nerd, actually."

"Whatever. Anyways, what's the real name of Havok in the X-men?"

To her shock, it was Lady Bond that answered. "Alex Summers."

Staring incredulously, Faith nodded. "Yup, Alex Summers is Havok. Now, when my good friend Havok got married, his name was Alexander Harris." The flinches at her mentioning the name of 'Alexander' did not go unnoticed. "Sorry 'bout that. Anyways, he wasn't too hot on his last name, so he took his wife's last name, Summers."

Calling him not hot on his last name was an understatement. Faith had been following him like a puppy in the days after Sunnydale, trying to atone for the whole fuck-and-strangle deal during Havok's last year in High School. She was with him when he met up with his Uncle Rory, who not only informed him that his parents were dead, but that Havok was adopted. He gave some bullshit line about how Havok's parents didn't want him to know he wasn't theirs. Faith hated emotional breakdowns, but she was thankful that she got to hold him as he bawled (the tears leaking out of his left eye-socket were fucking trippy) as he tried dealing with the fact that the fucks who abused him his entire childhood weren't even his birth parents. "Hence, Alex Summers, a.k.a Havok."

"Ah," Chuckles noted, before returning his attention to Lady Bond.

An awkward silence fell upon the room.

"I'll be right back. Anyone want some coffee?"

* * *

Willow tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the elevator doors to open. What could have been so important that Xander called her for a Priority Merlin? A faint pang of guilt flashed through her at abandoning the Bartowskis, but Xander would always be a priority for her.

At last, the doors opened and Willow rushed out towards the communication room. She nodded to Sandra, who was exiting, before taking a seat in front of a widescreen monitor. Willow typed in her username and password to enable Xander's face on the screen. Uh-oh. He did not look happy.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Xander," Willow babbled, cursing the way he could turn her back into an insecure nine year old with a single glare. "What's wrong?"

"Please tell me you were the one who just pinged me, magically," Xander implored, fear lacing his voice.

Willow opened her mouth and closed it. "Wait – someone penetrated the protections I gave you with a scry?"

"Yup, just as I was getting ready for bed," Xander stated without humor. "Not just me. It tripped the protections you gave Dawn too, but it was focused on her stomach. I'm guessing the uterus, to be specific. Which means someone with a hell of a lot of magical power just scryed out my family line. I'm really hoping it was you."

No way. Oh, Goddess. No way. Impossible. No way.

"Wills!"

Willow snapped out of her daze at Xander's shout.

"Wills, you're freaking me out here. Your face turning pale is making me real nervous. Do I need to worry about something attacking Dawn?"

Trying to form words but failing, Willow settled on shaking her head. She raised a finger to signal for him to wait while she tried to restart her brain. "Xander, I think it was me," Willow said at last. "Will you stay awake? I'm going to need about thirty minutes to verify my suspicions. Please, if I'm right, you'll want to know this."

To her relief, Xander nodded his consent. Disconnecting the transmission, Willow turned her attention to finding the building's paging system. Thank the Goddess that IWC employed the same contractor for communications worldwide.

Pressing the correct button, Willow cleared her throat. "Will Ahram Ko please report immediately to the conference room to prep it for teleporting a quick shipment. Repeat, will Ahram Ko please report to the conference room to prep it for transporting materials via teleportation. Sandra, I need you to withdraw a vial of blood each from both Mr. and Mrs. Bartowski. I'll join you in a few moments."

Picking up the phone at the console, Willow paused momentarily, trying to determine whom to call. Giles – he would be the best choice. If her suspicions panned out, he would want to be notified anyways. A quick glance at her watch showed it was only half past eleven in London. Punching in the numbers to his personal line, she waited for him to pick up.

"Hello," a groggy voice answered the phone.

"Giles! It's me, Willow! I didn't realize you would be in bed so early, old chap," Willow teased, as she nervously bounced in her seat. "I need you to do something for me."

A string of unintelligible muttering could be heard. "Lovely to speak with you as well, Willow. You're usually much more pleasant than the rest of your American brethren, so I presume there is a reason for your dearth of conversational niceties. How may I be of assistance?"

It was amazing how Giles could maintain propriety in nearly any situation. "I'm about to teleport some blood samples to the labs. Can I get you to ensure personally that they are analyzed immediately? Trust me, this is important. I don't care who you have to wake up or get in there; I just need them there and ready in about ten minutes."

"Of course. As you are well aware, it is staffed around the clock. I'll walk right over and be waiting for your call," Giles replied after a short pause, confusion evident in his voice.

"Thanks Giles. I'll call you back in ten," Willow said as she hung up the phone.

Willow rushed back out to the elevator, vibrating with excitement. She couldn't be sure her suspicions were correct. It would make sense, though. One pillar for Xander, the missing baby. One pillar for his child, a descendent. It was possible that Xander was simply a product of an affair of one of their parents. Still, a small part of her whispered, this would explain why Xander's birth parents had abandoned him.

And the missing baby was named Alexander.

Exiting onto the second floor again, she zoomed back into the conference room. Mrs. Bartowski appeared overwhelmed and nonplussed as Sandra was finishing withdrawing more blood from her. Mr. Bartowski stared incredulously at Ahram, who was painting the runes for teleporting.

"What kicked up the beehive, Red?" Faith asked, using that ridiculous nickname she insisted upon. "Is Africa going to be here tomorrow?"

"Africa's fine," Willow muttered idly, as she watched Ahram carefully draw a rune on the hardwood floor. Willow hoped that the floor was coated with a varnish or something that made it easy to wipe clean.

"So what's with the Priority Merlin? Havok has never had a false alarm," Faith inquired, not catching on that Willow was trying to double-check that Ahram was drawing correctly. "Red, hello?" There, Ahram was done. "Hey Red!"

Willow ignored Faith as she turned to Sandra. "Vials, please." Receiving the vials, she placed them in the center of the four runes that had been drawn. Ahram stepped back as Willow reached out to embrace Mother Gaia and began to chant. Transporting material instantaneously required an obscene amount of detail and concentration for the desired goods to arrive at the correct destination undamaged. Willow began to chant a mixture of Latin and Egyptian, throwing in the odd Germanic word. The vials of blood described perfectly; the location of the IWC London Labs visualized with the magic to the finest detail; the concept that Willow wanted these transported immediately – Willow's chant incorporated all three of these elements to create the spell. After nearly six minutes, she was done. The space around the vials distorted and they disappeared.

Ignoring the gasps of shock coming from the Bartowskis, Willow whipped out her cell phone. It was a little sad that the London labs were speed dial number six.

"Hello, this is Sheila. This is Willow, I presume?"

Willow's lips quirked into a smile. "Yes, it is. I take it Giles is there?"

"Yes, he is. We just received your vials of blood. What do you want me to do with them?"

"I need you to compare their DNA with those of one of our employees. Specifically, Alexander Lavelle Summers, Head Watcher for Africa. He's based in our Tiko branch. Determine what kind of familial relationship he has to the submitted vials." Willow noted in satisfaction that Faith spat out the coffee in her mouth as the Bartowskis stared, trembling.

"All right. As ordered, this has priority. Give me fifteen minutes."

"I'll be expecting the call." Willow snapped her phone shut and slumped down into the chair in exhaustion. Scrying the world's population and then teleporting blood to London had taken quite a bit out of her.

"What the fuck, Red?" Faith asked in disbelief, her mouth incapable of remaining closed.

"Hold on, Faith," Willow instructed before turning to where Ahram and Sandra sat next to one another. "You two, leave. And don't even think about contacting Xander or Dawn until I get confirmation one way or another."

Sometimes it was good to be on the executive council for the Council. Only Giles – and maybe Xander – could overrule her.

Next, she turned her attention to Faith and the Bartowskis. "I don't want to get your hopes up too much, so please remain calm, all right?" Mr. Bartowski nodded while Mrs. Bartowski just gave her a steely glare. Wonderful. "The Priority Merlin was called in because, Xander – I suppose Alexander Summers, if you want to be technical – felt my scry. I'm pretty sure he was a green pillar in Cameroon."

It hurt to see the hope flare in the Bartowskis' eyes. If her suspicions were correct, their three-week-old baby was now twenty-nine years old. "We don't know if our Alexander is your Alexander."

"Wait!" Mr. Bartowski blurted out. "There were two pillars. Only our son went missing. How could there be two pillars?"

Willow exchanged a glance with Faith. Although she truly believed these people weren't part of an elaborate scheme of the United States to try to kill or capture them, she wasn't sure how far she could trust them. But if they were Xander's parents – "Xander is married. His wife is currently five months pregnant."

Both Bartowskis looked poleaxed.

"We don't know the facts," Willow interjected, trying to stave off the complete mental breakdown of at least one of the Bartowskis. "One of your parents could be one of Xander's birth parents. He could be a half-sibling. It's possible that Xander himself is a descendent of your Alexander. This is all speculation for now, so let's just remain calm."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as they waited for the results. Faith, who had restrained herself admirably for the past hour, was content to merely shoot inquisitive glances towards the Bartowskis. Willow herself gave in to the impulse to study their faces to try and find Xander in them. The eyes of Mr. Bartowski were clearly a possible match. Then, of course, there were some children who scarcely resembled her parents. Like herself.

The Bartowskis themselves simply sat, their hands linked together. Willow was amazed at the alacrity with which they had accepted Slayers and Demons and magic. She supposed it helped that Mrs. Bartowski saw two demons take her son right in front of her eyes. In spite of this, the grace they displayed in the face of what surely must have been a series of reality-skewing revelations filled Willow with a sense of wonder at the capacity of the human mind to adapt quickly to new circumstances. Or perhaps they were so wrapped up in their personal grief they just didn't care that they had been exposed to the supernatural. No matter what the results were, they had for all intents and purposes lost their baby. Willow hoped the tests showed that Xander was their son. No respectable parents, which the Bartowskis definitely seemed to be, could be disappointed in him.

And this would explain why Xander's birth parents had never come looking for him. Willow recalled offering to look for his relatives only to have him turn down her offer. If they were willing to give him up, why should he bother getting to know them? Except his parents never knew he was missing. Because he was born –

"Excuse me, Mrs. Bartowski?" Willow asked softly, while she grabbed a notepad and a pen. "When was your son born? Where was he born? How much did he weigh?"

Mrs. Bartowski involuntarily smiled at the thought of her son. "Five-oh-eight p.m., September 24, 2010. Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. Nine pounds, seven ounces. Ten fingers, ten toes."

Scratching down the responses, Willow smiled at the wistful tone in Mrs. Bartowski's voice. Tempted as she was to sing Xander's praises (biased as she was), it would probably just be like twisting a knife in the wound.

Once again, Kate Perry's _I Kissed a Girl _filled the room. Willow could hear Faith snickering softly, as she reached into her pocket looking for her cell. She really needed to change that ringtone, or at least keep her phone on vibrate mode. "This is Willow."

"Hello, Willow." It was Giles. "I believe Xander had instructed you to not go looking for his parents."

"Just repeat to me the results. It's not quite what you're thinking," Willow instructed, hoping to avoid a lecture. She turned away from the Bartowskis, unable to look at their faces, which were suspended between hope and dread.

"I don't understand a single thing about how it was determined, but Sheila assures me that the blood was that of his parents." Willow exhaled sharply at the confirmation. "It is rather odd that they would come looking for him after all this time."

An involuntary giggle escaped from Willow's mouth. "No, it really isn't. I need to focus on Xander, but you'll get the full story out of one of us in a couple of days, all right? And thank you."

Willow ended the call and turned around to face the anxious parents. "Congratulations, we found your son," Willow said softy, her eyes shimmering with the thought that just maybe, besides Buffy's mom, one of her friends had decent parents. Mrs. Bartowski sank into her husband's arms, who simply looked relieved that his son had been found. "He's been my best friend since I was five and he's the best man I've ever known. Now if you will excuse me, I really need to talk to him. I'm sorry, but it should probably be me, just at first, breaking the news to him."

Willow stood up and walked out, refusing to make eye contact. She didn't want to let it slip that their son would be furious at first, having labored under the misconception for the past seven years that his birth parents had abandoned him. Fact was, within thirty hours of being kidnapped, his parents had gotten the Director of the NSA to come begging for assistance.

Waiting once more for the elevator, she heard Faith ask if the Bartowskis wanted to endorse her in the competition to be Xander's child's godmother. Willow shook her head, realizing a little too late that it was a mistake to leave Xander's parents alone in a room with the woman who had popped his cherry.


	3. Chapter Two: Conference Committee

Disclaimer: I don't own Angel, BtVS or Chuck.

Author's Note: This chapter took much longer than anticipated to be released. Finals and the holidays kept me occupied, unfortunately. At last though, this chapter is ready for release. I hope you enjoy it!

Also, if you are a member of Twisting the Hellmouth, vote for my stories! For Browncoat Reveille, I've been nominated for Best Portrayal of Xander, Best Portrayal of Cordelia, and Best Firefly Crossover. For Wired for the Task I've been nominated for Best Non-BtVS/AtS Story. Finally, I was nominated for Best New Author. Your votes are appreciated!

Once again, big props to Veriksto for her beta work.

Reviews, as always are appreciated.

* * *

**Long Beach, CA, USA**

Chuck Bartowski was used to emotional stress. His courtship of Sarah Walker consisted of continuous rejection, deceit, and just plain confusion. And that was without the threat of being shot, exes with dubious loyalties, and government-sanctioned kidnapping attempts thrown into the mix. The past forty-eight hours, though, had introduced him to a completely new type of hell. He would have a mere seventeen days with his firstborn son. The emotions were too raw for him to make sense of them, so he only allowed himself to feel relief that his son lived. And was apparently a very good man.

"What? It was a compliment. Trust me, you're, like, going to be the world's hottest GILF."

Unfortunately, his wife wasn't quite as good at handling the emotions involved in caring about other people. She only excelled at denying her emotions in order to complete the mission. The past two days had nearly shattered Sarah. The son she had carried for nine months had been abducted in front of her eyes and, despite her training, she had been helpless to prevent it. Sarah wasn't taking the news that she would never cradle Alex in her arms again very well.

Then of course this crass woman in their room may have had something to do with it. Spying Sarah's arm involuntarily reaching behind for either her gun or one of her knives, Chuck grabbed her arm and pulled her close. "Sarah, honey, take it as a compliment. I'm pretty sure she means well," he whispered into her ear.

A perplexed expression appeared on Faith's face. "Of course I meant it well. You're Havok's parents. Granted, out of the Sunnydale veterans there was only one decent parent, but right now, it looks like you're going to buck the trend."

Chuck's throat clenched at the implication of that statement. According to this woman, at best, his son had one decent parent.

Oblivious to Chuck's concerns, Faith continued. "After reading the files on you two and meeting you guys, I kind of see some of your traits in Havok."

Files? "What files?" Chuck asked as Sarah added, "What traits?"

Faith chuckled. "You two are adorable the way you speak all over one another, you know that? I'll answer Chuckles first. Some dude pulled them for us off this thing called the Enter…no, wasn't that…" Faith muttered under her breath in an effort to remember the word as Chuck's stomach dropped. Next to him, Sarah had gone as tense as a wire. "Intersect! That's what it was called."

Now Sarah was the one propping Chuck up. Issues with loved ones? Sarah leaned on Chuck. Issues with threats to national security? Chuck leaned on Sarah.

"Anyways, seriously, there's eighteen pages in there detailing every video game you play, Chuckles. Your son is just as big a dork as you are. Last month, I was chilling at his plantation. We'd be up to the crack of dawn playing Gears of War Three." Glancing quickly at Sarah, they shared a smile as they relaxed. "And your ability to attract smoking hot babes despite being the King of Dorks, that has to be genetic."

"Really?" Sarah asked, leaning forward in interest, releasing her hold on Chuck.

"Damn straight. His first girlfriend was the head cheerleader for Sunnydale High. Then he and Red had something going on for a bit, then me," Faith said with a wink and a leer, drawing an honest-to-God laugh out of Sarah. For that, Chuck would forgive Faith for reminding him a tad too much of Carina. "Then there was his fiancée Anya, who didn't survive the fall of Sunnydale. I didn't know her that well, but she's in your league, Lady Bond. Then D finally hit eighteen and enacted the plan she had spent over eight years crafting to make Havok hers. Poor bastard didn't stand a chance. They got married nearly four years ago."

Eight years of planning? "Wait, his wife wanted him when she was ten?" Chuck wasn't sure if that was romantic or a tad stalkerish.

Faith leaned back in her chair and propped her feet on the table. "What can I say? The girl is wicked smart. Now that they're moving back to England, word is D is going for her doctorate in ancient languages or something," Faith said, pride lacing her voice. "If my head had been screwed on straight when I tangoed with him, I sure as hell wouldn't have kicked him out of my bed."

And that was an awkward statement. Chuck had yet to meet Dawn but was already glad she was his daughter-in-law instead of Faith. Heaven help him if Faith ever met Jeff or Lester. A quick glance at Sarah showed that she looked just as lost as he did on how to handle that last statement.

To Chuck's dismay, Faith pointed at Sarah. "As for you Lady Bond-"

"Care if I cut in quickly?" Chuck interjected, raising his hand. Faith gave him an amused look but didn't protest.

Thank God. While Sarah didn't hold many regrets from her years as a deep-cover agent, they held more than a few discussions on how they didn't want that life for their son. A change in topic was necessary. "So I've gathered you guys aren't exactly a public organization. What do we tell my sister and brother-in-law? His godfather? My best friend?"

Faith rapped her fingers quickly on the surface of the table. "It's usually the call of the person in our organization. So it's up to Havok."

Standing up, Faith stretched, exposing a scar on her abs as her shirt lifted up. Chuck's breathing came to a halt as a flash hit him. A mug shot of Faith. A corpse in a pool of dried blood. A pardon by signed by Governor Davis. A pale man with shiny black hair. A dossier emphasizing membership in the International Watchers Council. Chuck shook his head as his vision returned to normal.

"You alright there, Chuckles?" Faith asked, concern showing on her face. Sarah turned to face him, but he didn't dare tell her what he saw in a building full of women with super-hearing. The fact that there were women with super-hearing was sheer insane, but after having a government database jammed into his head, he was used to having his view of the world turned upside down.

Shrugging, he tried to look as sheepish as possible. "Yeah, just a little tired. Hey, should we contact the police since our son was technically found?" Chuck inquired, trying to keep the topic off of his wife's former role in the Agency.

Thankfully, both the Agency and the NSA had come down pretty hard on the LAPD to keep the abduction quiet from the media for now. The reasoning behind the clampdown was two-fold: first, it didn't expose Sarah to a national audience as a crazy lady who saw demons; second, it didn't expose Sarah and their family to an international audience that may want to enact revenge for operations she undertook overseas.

Faith snapped her fingers. "Good point. I forgot. Hey, why don't you guys follow me out here while I get Sandra to yank the pigs off the case. I can show you the photos I have of Havok in my office."

Chuck plastered a grin on his face at the idea. As long as he kept busy, he didn't worry about having to think too much. Standing up, he waited for Sarah to hook her arm though his before they followed Faith out of the conference room.

* * *

**October 12, 2010  
Seven miles out of Tiko, Cameroon**

Sweat dripped off of Xander's face as he leaned back in his chair in the communications room. Even at nearly one in the morning the temperature was in the high seventies accompanied by horrendous humidity. He took a sip of his Leffe Blonde, cursing that the AC had blown sometime earlier in the afternoon. Armand would be back tomorrow morning, hopefully with the correct parts from Douala. At least the residences had AC; Xander didn't want Dawn to be uncomfortable in her state.

He was going to miss Tiko. For the past six years, he had made his home on this plantation. Consisting of forty-five hundred acres, it had been bestowed upon the Watchers Council when its former owner, along with his potential, had been slain by the Bringers of the First. When Dawn, Vi and Xander had come to claim the plantation, it had consisted of a rundown two-story house and a stable. Now, where the house once stood were state-of-the-art training facilities. An operations center had been built nearby. Five apartment blocks, capable of housing sixty people apiece, encircled a garden for growing fresh fruits and vegetables that flourished in the fertile soil. A large runway, capable of accommodating a C130, had been paved onto the property, leading to three massive hangers that housed the diverse aircraft used to transport personnel to various hot spots on the continent.

London had a lot to live up to.

Xander's thoughts turned back to the scry he had felt nearly forty minutes ago. If Willow thought she had been comforting during their transmission, she had failed miserably. Willow figured she was the one who had scryed Dawn and him? Either she had scryed him or she hadn't.

"Hey," a soft voice called out. "Is everything all right? You shouldn't be here by yourself. Raissa is scheduled to be on the comms tonight."

Xander smiled, swiveling the chair to face Dawn and patting his knee. He let loose with an exaggerated grunt as Dawn sat down on him, which promptly earned him an elbow in the gut.

"Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I can't inflict pain on you."

Xander chuckled while gently wrapping his arms around her stomach. "I don't doubt that in the slightest. And I sent Rai out so I could talk with Willow alone. "

"So what's the deal?" Dawn asked, leaning back into Xander. "Was it Willow?"

Sighing, Xander groaned. "I don't know. When I told Willow what happened, she freaked and told me she'd contact me in thirty minutes," Xander said, glancing at his watch. "It's been twenty-eight minutes now."

A yellow light lit up on the console as a low beep began to sound. Dawn pushed off of Xander so she could activate the transmission before reclaiming her seat.

"Hey, Willow," Dawn greeted the redhead. "What's wrong?"

A sharp laugh came from Willow. "Nothing," she assured them. "I'm actually glad you're there, Dawn. You should hear this and keep Xander from overreacting."

Xander gave Dawn a confused look, wondering why he needed a handler.

"I'll have you know that I'm a very mature adult in full control of my emotions," Xander stated to a pair of disbelieving snorts.

"Funny, Xander," Willow said, rolling her eyes. "Now hear out the full story before you react. Promise?"

Xander duly nodded his head.

"Lieutenant General Beckman of the NSA contacted me this morning for assistance." Xander made a move to stand, but his wife's weight and her not-so-gentle grip kept him down. "Two CIA agents she works with had their seventeen day old son abducted yesterday morning." Dawn clucked in sympathy. "It was Whistler - along with a time-traveling demon."

Xander's head started to buzz, although he couldn't figure out why.

"The baby's name was Alexander Elliot Bartowski. The parents arrived here roughly an hour ago so I could scry the planet for their son or any descendants the son may have had."

The buzz became a roar, and Dawn's grip became painful.

"Xander, you were born in Cedar-Sinai Medical Center, weighing nine pounds and seven ounces, at five-oh-eight p.m., September 24, 2010. The labs in London confirmed that you're their son. One-hundred-percent positive."

A squeak from Dawn made Xander realize he was putting pressure on her stomach. Immediately releasing her, he gripped the arms of his chair. "Repeat that, Wills?" Xander muttered absently.

"Your birth parents never went looking for you, because you didn't go missing until yesterday morning. They're both CIA but also two very distraught individuals who desperately miss their son. They somehow convinced the head of the NSA to come begging to us for assistance in finding you."

At this, Dawn wiggled herself off of Xander's lap to stand up. "Honey, I'm going to get Ken up and have whoever is on duty start fueling the G10," Dawn declared, ignoring Xander's motions for her to rejoin him. "Willow, when you're done talking to Xander, will you call Balsas and have them prepped for us to refuel in about twelve hours? We'll handle filing the flight plans on our end."

"Sure thing, Dawnie," Willow promised. "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"Wha - Wait!" Xander called out to Dawn, but she ignored him and left the room. "Wills, why am I going?"

Willow sighed. "Xander, your birth parents are out of their minds worrying about you. They _never_ abandoned you. Your mom was beside herself with guilt because she couldn't get a shot off, since Whistler's friend was using you as a human shield."

Xander blinked. This woman (he couldn't think of her as his mother) had fought to prevent him from being kidnapped. Why was Whistler involved?

"Hey!" Willow snapped at him, interpreting his silence for being stubborn. "How would you like it if your baby was kidnapped through time and you were unable to go follow it back in time and raise it? I know you have issues, but you will come out here and be damn glad to meet these people." Willow paused, scrunching her face in thought. "Unless, they're jerks, which so far I don't think they are. But if that is the case, I'll - Well, I'll do something mean. And appropriate."

Relaxing back into his seat, Xander wiped the sweat off his brow. Willow did make a point. If his and Dawn's baby were to be kidnapped by demons, he didn't know what he would do. And that was precisely what had happened to his parents, apparently. "What are they like?" Xander asked, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

Willow smiled as Xander's anger receded. "Your dad is a CIA analyst. Graduated from Stanford, although for some reason he took a nearly six-year sabbatical before finishing his degree. The vast majority of his file consisted of documenting which video games he played."

The thought that he grew up playing the same games as his dad struck him as hilarious. As fate's bitch, it wouldn't surprise him if he had faced off with his dad in Halo 3. "What about…" Xander paused, hesitant to use the title. "What about my mother?"

"She assassinated the President of Belarus when he was visiting Syria back in '06," Willow said dryly as Xander's eye twitched. "The CIA recruited her out of Harvard."

Xander's mouth dropped. His Dad went to Stanford, his mom Harvard, and he barely graduated from Sunnydale High.

"She was one of their heavy hitters until August of '07. Then she got assigned to protect your dad, although it doesn't list the reason why in the files. It's actually really sweet. There's an evaluation in here from the Directors of the CIA and NSA whining because your father ruined her for overseas operations. They didn't like her falling head-over-heels in love with your daddy. Perhaps dating dangerous women is genetic in your family. You know, you really can be Example A for nature versus nurture."

Xander snorted and rolled his eye at Willow's attempt at levity. "Well, I suppose if I got engaged to an eleven-hundred year old vengeance demon that tortured men, I'm in no position to complain that my mother was a CIA assassin," Xander noted, still pausing before using the word "mother". "Do I have any other relatives?"

To his amusement, Willow's image bounced up and down on screen. "That's right! You have an aunt. Possibly an uncle as well, but I didn't investigate," Willow said before quickly typing at a keyboard off-screen. "Oh. You do have one grandparent, but he's in the Colorado Supermax, apparently. I figure I'll let your mom explain that one."

Huh. What the hell did his grandfather do to end up in the most exclusive prison in the United States? Xander blinked, as the door to the communications room swung open, permitting Edward, one of his bodyguards to step in.

"Sorry for the intrusion," the man apologized when he saw that Xander was still talking to Willow. "Dawn asked me to tell you to be on the runway in thirty minutes. Oh, and don't worry, she has Kennedy packing for you."

Xander sighed. Kennedy did not appreciate his fondness for all things Hawaiian. Growing up in New England as part of the upper crust, she probably was filling his luggage with Dockers and those damn sweaters she insisted upon giving him for his birthdays and Christmas. "Thanks Ed. I'll be out of here in a few minutes."

Xander turned back to Willow to find her off-screen as he heard the door close on his blind side. "Wills?"

A finger popped up on the screen, signaling for him to wait. Xander smirked before picking up his Leffe and downing the remainder.

"Back," Willow said as she retook her seat. "Had to pick up the printouts I got on your aunt and uncle. Your aunt's name is Eleanor Woodcomb. Ooh, I bet you she's where you got your middle name. She's a practicing trauma surgeon at Our Lady of Mercy Hospital in Los Angeles. Your uncle's name is Devon Woodcomb. He's a practicing cardiology specialist at Our Lady of Mercy Hospital too. How cute! They work together," Willow squealed.

Xander knew that it was up to the member of the IWC to choose whom to inform about the nature of the world. Lord knew he had counseled countless Slayers and Watchers on this issue. "Wills, mind sending some people back with my parents? Let those two in on the secret. Goddess knows we can always use more doctors."

"Sure thing," Willow agreed before taking on a more pensive expression. "There is the issue of your godfather, though. You won't like this Xander." Willow paused. "He's an NSA cleaner."

"No," Xander stated without hesitation. "No information, no access. I don't care how, just get rid of him."

"You won't see me arguing," Willow agreed. "If he kicks up a fit, one of us will take him down fast and hard."

Xander's thoughts grew darker at the thought of the NSA. Xander had formed the Slayer Auxiliary Unit to escort and protect Slayers when they were deployed to the numerous conflict regions in Africa. The theory was let the Slayers handle the slaying and the SAU handle the human armed forces. The SAU was also handy when deployed in heavily Islamic regions, allowing them to act as male escorts for the female Slayers.

The parallels between the SAU and the amoral wetwork teams of the old Council weren't lost on him. Xander, Colonel Ackers, and one of the Slayers had to report every deployment of the SAU to Giles back in London within two hours of every offensive deployment. The Slayers were actively encouraged to gossip amongst themselves regarding the movement and missions of the SAU. No one wanted a repeat of the abusive way Travers had used the wetwork teams to advance his personal agenda.

Never had Xander imagined that the SAU would see combat against the United States government within the continental U.S. Nor did he envision their being used as his own personal guard. Thanks to the fucking NSA, though, both events had come to pass.

"Xander, c'mon," Willow implored. "We'll keep him away. Anyways, I should probably go track down your parents. I may have left them alone with Faith."

Xander's eye twitched. "What? How could you? At Dawn's bridal shower, Faith did a ten-minute play-by-play recap of the time I slept with her!"

Willow giggled, her eyes glazing over. "Yes, Faith did describe in explicit detail at what I missed out on," Willow said slyly. "She did swear that, in retrospect, you deserved a Rookie of the Year trophy."

"Wills…" Xander paused for a moment, flustered, his face red in embarrassment. "Can you just go keep them company?"

"Of course I will," Willow assured him, smiling gently. "I'll see you tomorrow. Fly safe."

The connection promptly winked out, leaving Xander in silence.

He sat alone for the next twenty-five minutes, trying to wrap his head around what had happened. Back in Sunnydale, Xander had often lamented that he was the normal one of the group. It was just his luck that once he was finally secure and happy in his life, it turned out that there was something freakish about him. Why on Earth had Whistler orchestrated sending him back in time? At least he was still human.

A brief rap at the door stirred him from his musings. Dawn's head poked in. "You alive in there? It's time to board the plane."

Xander pulled himself up and walked over to Dawn, hugging her as tightly as he dared. He would try to connect with his parents for their sakes. And if they turned out to be dicks, who cared? He had his friends. And he had Dawn.

Dawn pecked his cheek before leaning back and facing him. "You know what I just realized?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "You're not even three weeks old. I'm literally robbing the cradle."

Laughing, Xander spun her around to face the door and began pushing her towards the runway. "And from a certain perspective, you're only ten years old, Dawn Patrol. We're both pedophiles."

* * *

**October 11, 2010  
Redondo Beach, CA, USA**

Her son had lost an eye. Her baby was gone. Her son was only one year younger than she was. The world had gone completely insane during the past two days. She was going to be a grandmother in four months, before her thirty-first birthday. Her son had lost an eye.

Riding in the backseat of a Ford Escape, Sarah realized that her training had completely failed her. Or perhaps she had failed her training. She had been instructed to not form permanent relations. Chuck was and would always be the driving force that broke down all of her walls, but Ellie, Devon, Casey and even Morgan had broken through as well.

She had to remind herself that she wasn't alone. Chuck had lost just as much as she had (ignoring the voice that told her Chuck didn't carry Alex in his stomach for the past nine months).

Her mind flashed back to the photos of Alex she saw in Faith's office. If she hadn't been told that he was a demon hunter, she would have assumed he was an Afrikaner mercenary. His build was wiry with tanned skin and that eyepatch. To Sarah's vexation, Faith refused to break her friend's trust, insisting that the circumstances involving the loss of his eye was his story to tell.

Seeing the numerous pictures of Alex with his wife, Dawn, brought a whole new level of anxiety. Outside of her professional career, there were very few people Sarah Walker sought the approval of. Now she felt pressured to like this woman, despite never having met her. Sarah did not like being forced to do anything outside of the scope of official orders.

One question, though, was begging to be asked. "Why? Why would this Whistler take Alex?" Sarah inquired breaking the silence in the Escape.

Seated in front of Sarah, Willow and Faith shared a glance. In the passenger seat Faith shrugged, indicating that she would defer to Willow.

"I've been asking that myself," Willow confessed, making eye contact in the rear-view mirror. "Mind if I speculate?"

Sarah smiled slightly. "I wouldn't have asked otherwise."

"Xander has saved the world once single-handedly," Willow stated. Sarah turned towards Chuck, awe present in her eyes.

Faith coughed in an exaggerated manner. "Twice." Willow shifted her gaze from the road to stare at Faith. "Red, keep your eyes on the road for fuck's sake. And it was twice, as far as I know."

"When?" Willow blurted out, shock evident in her voice.

Faith swiveled around in her seat to directly face the Bartowskis. "Take this, senior year of high school for your son. A demon bitch is about to do me in, when Havok comes roaring in like a bat out of hell, running that bitch over with his car, saving my fine ass. I then reward him in ways that I have been instructed should not be heard by your delicate ears."

While no stranger to sex, Sarah felt slightly queasy at the thought of her child sleeping with this Carina knock-off.

"Anyways, here is where Havok went to save the world," Faith continued. Sarah detected smugness, probably because she knew something that Willow didn't. "Mind you, this is all second-hand shit that I heard from my trip to the darkside. Now, remember that night, Red, how those crazy bitches managed to open the Hellmouth for a bit?"

Willow gave Faith an odd look. "Yeah. I also remember that we went out of our way to keep Xander fray adjacent, because none of us were really expecting to survive."

Faith snorted and rolled her eyes. "Shit, Red, you should know Havok takes instructions as well as I do. Long story short, Havok infiltrated a zombie gang. They were trying to blow up the school, which would have killed us and let the Hellmouth open fully. In case you didn't get the memo, open Hellmouth equals extinct humans. According to Trick - that was the Mayor's pet Vamp for you new to this story - Havok systematically killed the zombies and then disarmed the bomb. All by himself." Faith delivered in a matter-of-fact tone, ignoring the gaping mouths. "Mayor Wilkins was quite happy that someone managed to stop that gang. He was less pleased that Xander disappeared with the bomb." Faith paused to shove a stick of gum in her mouth. "Now that I think about it, Havok probably used that bomb as the basis for those bombs he used to blow Sunnyhell High to kingdom come."

"Wait," Chuck squeaked, causing Sarah to share a grin with Faith and Willow. "I remember reading about how that high school blew up. It happened the day before my graduation. Are you telling me that my - our son blew up his high school?"

Laughter rippled from Willow. "Well, his finger wasn't on the detonator, but, yes, he designed, built or stole and placed the explosives. Trust me, he was incredible. No civilians died from the explosion and the True Demon did."

Pride swelled up in Sarah. It was ridiculous, but the fact that her son leveled his high school with no collateral damage appealed to her professional side along with her newfound maternal instincts. "So Alex started committing federal offenses his senior year?" Sarah asked eagerly, her smile contradicting the accusatory language in her question.

"Make that his junior year," Willow replied, as she pulled up to a red light. "Don't ask me how, because he never told me, but he and Cordelia - his girlfriend at the time - walked into the Sunnydale National Guard Armory and walked out with a LAW launcher."

"He is so your son," Sarah and Chuck told one another simultaneously, prompting giggles from up front.

Chuck smiled as he placed his hand over Sarah's mouth. "C'mon, infiltrating military installations? Expertly blowing up high schools? That's you, spy girl."

Sarah rolled her eyes as she gently pushed Chuck's hand from her mouth and enclosed it in hers. "Please. She emphasized his walking into the military installation. That sounds like something you'd cook up." Sarah proceeded to pout and bat her eyes. "And don't tell me you've forgotten our first date. I do recall you dismantling a bomb."

"Wow, you guys are doing a great job making the CIA look human," Willow noted in a light tone. "So, yeah, Xander singlehandedly saved the world twice. And though I think he's incredible and I'll be forever glad I grew up with him, I still wonder what made him unique enough to justify Whistler taking him from you guys."

A more comfortable silence fell upon the car as the occupants pondered Willow's observation. Sarah exchanged a glance with Chuck and knew he felt the same: pride in their son mixed with abject despair that they played no role in raising him.

The Escape finally pulled off of Sepulveda Boulevard, nearing the Bartowski house. Sarah briefly wondered how Willow knew where to go before she remembered they were following another Escape driven by the girl who had picked them up. Was it only just almost four hours ago?

"Yo, Red," Faith said, breaking the silence. "Let me handle the NSA dude."

Sarah frowned at this comment. Why would Faith handle Casey?

Sighing, Willow gave Faith an irritated glance. "I can easily dispatch him myself."

"Sure you can, Red," Faith said, as if speaking to a small child. "But you've used more than a bit of magic today, which means you're tired. When you're tired, you take shortcuts. When you take shortcuts, Darth Willow makes an appearance. And since we're dealing with the NSA, I start to worry if there's going to be a Los Angeles tomorrow morning if you go Darth on us. So let me handle the tool."

Switching into agent mode, Sarah began to quickly assess the threat this pair posed to her partner. She didn't like the odds. The casual way Faith spoke of Willow acting like a Sith Lord (dammit she had spent far too much time with Chuck) made Sarah nervous. She had already seen this woman conduct a DNA test that spanned the globe today and teleport Sarah's blood to London. Dealing with Faith herself would be no walk in the park, either. Jenny had given her and Chuck the standard Slayer speech, emphasizing that they had unparalleled strength, speed, and unarmed combat skill. Before they had departed from Long Beach, Sarah had noted that Faith had slipped several knives into her clothing, along with what looked to be a double-edged short sword, into the lining of her jacket. In close quarters, Sarah figured she didn't stand a chance. That didn't even factor in the other two slayers and one witch that were present in the lead vehicle.

Diplomacy would be the best option.

Giving Chuck a hard stare to convey that she would handle this, Sarah placed a hand on Faith's shoulder. "Why are you talking about hurting Casey?" Sarah asked politely. "He is Alex's godfather."

"He's NSA," answered Faith and Willow.

Sarah raised a single eyebrow. General Beckman did mention that this organization had killed General Russo, the former director of the NSA. "Just out of curiosity, what's wrong with the NSA?"

To Sarah's fascination, black highlights began to streak through Willow's hair.

"Red!" Faith snapped, not so gently whacking Willow on the shoulder, causing the Escape to swerve. "Lady Bond doesn't know!"

The black highlights faded, returning Willow's hair to red. What the hell just happened?

The Escape pulled over to the side of the road. Willow turned around, her face stony. "The NSA kidnapped your son along with one of his best friends. The figured that as the only 'normal' human in the inner circle of the Council, he'd be an easy target."

Sarah felt short of breath. She knew NSA policy.

"Slayers are resistant to drugs. Vi broke loose. She died trying to get your son out of confinement," Willow stated harshly.

For a second, Sarah empathized with the government. She understood their perspective. This Council was a militarized global force with unknown strength and objectives that could penetrate the United States' most secure databases. It was understandable that they could rationalize the abduction of two individuals in order to assess the threat the Council posed.

Then she reminded herself what a black NSA interrogation consisted of, and that most importantly, her _son_ had been the recipient of it. He was her flesh and blood. She had carried him in her uterus for nine months. She had been willing to directly oppose her government for Chuck's sake just after knowing Chuck for five months.

"After performing her autopsy in front of Xander for kicks, they decided to start playing rough with your son," Willow said, anger lacing her voice. "If we hadn't had specialists flown in and waiting at a nearby safe house, at the very least, Xander wouldn't be walking today. I loathe taking human life, but I'll shed no tears for purging that facility."

"John Casey was a merciless killer when I first met him," Chuck interjected, to Sarah's surprise. "He scared the shit out of me. I wasn't sure if he was going to protect me or kill me. He's changed, though. He's still a bastard, but I trust him with the safety of my family."

Silence met Chuck's declaration.

After several moments, Willow sighed, then pulled back into the stream of traffic. "Doesn't matter, though. Xander doesn't want him there," Willow said without remorse. "Until he says otherwise, he'll either keep his distance or we'll keep him unconscious."

Sarah sat still, trying to understand the myriad of emotions coursing through her. Her training hadn't prepared her to deal with this. Chuck's defense of Casey stirred something in her, though. After three years on the assignment, Casey was practically family. Families look out for one another, through times thick and thin.

She nestled up to Chuck as they turned onto their street. Chuck was all the training she needed to cope with this.

* * *

Ty'ark sighed as he glanced through the living room window towards the obnoxiously plain house. If he weren't being paid five thousand dollars a month, he would never have bothered with this job. The money way barely adequate to make up for the overwhelming boredom of the assignment. All he did was observe the house and keep his eye out for flagged visitors.

At this rate, he was tempted to go over in his natural form to introduce himself, just so he could report a flagged visitor.

All things considered, the past couple of days had been a little too exciting for his taste. He didn't know why, but those damn police had been all over the street. It would be highly inconvenient if they were to clue in that the owners of the house he was residing in had long been digested by his stomach. Actually, their processed bodies were probably somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, if his knowledge of the sewer system was correct.

For just over six months, Ty'ark had occupied this house. It had been very simple to torture the account information out of the previous owners, allowing him to keep up the payments on the mortgage, electricity, and cable. Online banking and billing truly was a demon's best friend.

A black SUV pulled up to the house. Ty'ark was about to turn away when he saw a young woman jump out of the back seat and jog towards the backyard wall. With her long ebony hair pulled into a ponytail, the lithe black woman cut a striking figure. Then to his astonishment, she placed one hand on top of the brick wall and simply flung herself over it. Unless she was planning to compete in London, that girl wasn't human.

Paying rapt attention, he saw a blonde escorting an Asian chick. An Asian chick who was either hoping to get high from a variety of plants or was a Wicca carrying her spell supplies. A Wicca escorted by two young women.

Slayers.

A second black SUV pulled up into the driveway. From his vantage point, he could only see the right side of the SUV. He saw the female owner of the house step out of the back seat. Then a familiar-looking brunette hopped out of the passenger seat. He groped blindly for a few moments until his hand made contact with the cheat sheet of mug shots he had made.

Faith Lehane. Considered by some the last true slayer. And the current bogeyman of demons in Los Angeles ever since that faggot of a vamp Angel had performed one of the ballsiest murder-suicides in taking out the local Wolfram and Hart branch.

All right, looked like he was going to earn his pay today. Wouldn't hurt to stick around for a few more minutes, though, just to see who the driver was.

Everyone had gone inside the house for the time being. His sensitive ears picked up a loud snap, as if a large wattage of electricity had been discharged. Ty'ark wondered what the source of it was.

A few minutes later, the Asian Wicca emerged into the front yard. Followed by a redhead. A very familiar looking redhead.

Oh, shit.

Death was here. That was the only moniker that applied to her. She was known as Willow the Black, back when Sunnydale was around. Then she became Willow the White, after Sunnydale sank into hell, where it belonged. Unfortunately, these days depending on her mood, she could show up sporting either black or white hair. Didn't matter. If you were her enemy, you simply died.

Ty'ark stood up and calmly walked to the master bedroom. Exercising as much self-control as he was capable of, he meticulously packed away all of his personal belongings. No need to give Death a chance to track down his aura.

After double-checking the house, he stepped into the garage. The owner's Acura TSX was parked in its spot with what Ty'ark hoped was a full gas tank. Inserting the key into the ignition, he saw it had three-quarters of a tank. Good, that should get him somewhere safe.

Like Tijuana.

He pulled out of the garage onto the driveway, taking care to close the garage door behind him. Knowing his luck, Death would see the door open and stop him like a Good Samaritan. Then kill him once she detected what he was.

It wasn't until he was on the 405 that Ty'ark let himself relax. He had made it. Now he had a contract to fulfill. Disregarding California state law, Ty'ark pulled out his cellphone and dialed the only programmed number as he headed south towards the border.

"Mr. van Kerk? You hired me to watch the residence of a Charles Bartowski. You wouldn't believe who just paid a visit to his house."

* * *

Chuck was spitting out toothpaste into the sink when he heard the door to his room shut. Looking up in the mirror, he smiled softly to see Sarah slumping against the closed door. "Casey sleeping all right?"

Sarah gave him an exasperated look. "Whatever the hell that Ahram did to him, he's out," she said dryly. "I'm going to let Ellie be there when he wakes up. For whatever reason, he has a soft spot for her."

If Casey hadn't been such a close friend, Chuck would have laughed his ass off this afternoon. He had just stepped into the house when Natasha sped forward and tasered Casey into an involuntary nap. Ellie and Awesome just stared as a blonde slip of a girl picked him up by his belt and manhandled him onto the couch. In retrospect, that made those two a much more receptive audience for when Jenny finished her perimeter check and came in to do her speech.

Casey regained consciousness momentarily while Chuck and his family watched in awe as Natasha and Jenny sparred. Casey only had time to ask what had happened to him before Ahram had chanted something, knocking him out again. After demanding to know what happened to Casey, to Chuck's amusement, Ellie had mercilessly interrogated Ahram and Willow about the medical applications of magic.

At least Morgan had been easy to handle. Chuck had intercepted him outside, where all Morgan could see were the two black SUVs. It has been simple to explain to him that there were federal officers here to assist with the abduction investigation, space was at a premium, and he would call his friend as soon as there was news. Chuck hated that he was so adept at lying to Morgan, but Willow and Faith had drilled it into his head that only Alex could give Morgan clearance.

"Casey has a soft spot for Ellie because she feeds him so well," Chuck replied as he wiped the water from his face with a towel. "Speaking of which, where are Ellie and Awesome?"

"In the guest bedroom. Awesome thinks it's awesome that we have magically raised a great child with no effort on our part. Ellie is currently giving him the Morgan treatment," Sarah answered as she padded over to the bed. Reaching over to the table, she flicked the switch on the clock radio before collapsing onto the mattress. The sound of running water could be heard as the radio generated pink-noise. "There, hopefully we'll get some privacy. I'm not exactly comfortable with these Slayers patrolling our house with their super-hearing."

Chuck's lips quirked upwards. "Gee, I wonder what it's like to live with your every movement under surveillance." He quickly leaned back to dodge a paperback novel thrown at his head. "I flashed on Faith, by the way."

Sarah groaned before rolling over to face him. "What for? Do we need to take it to General Beckman?"

"Looked like she murdered someone," Chuck said. "But I also saw a pardon from Governor Davis. For now, I say we don't bother."

"Thank God," Sarah uttered as she burrowed beneath the sheets. "Today has been more than long enough as it is. I can't believe I didn't think about challenging the accuracy of the labs. Have I told you that I only married you for your sister?"

Rolling his eyes, Chuck stripped down to his boxers. "Many times. I'm glad that Ellie raised the point. Though you do have to admit, she backed down pretty fast when Willow mentioned that it was Windham Labs that verified the results."

With his hand hovering over the light switch, Chuck turned to face Sarah. "Did you brush and do your routine?"

"Yes," Sarah replied. "I did all of it while you were outside seeing off Willow and Natasha. I'm not sure how to feel about the fact that our house is now being guarded by two Slayers and a witch."

Chuck flipped the switch off, plunging the room into darkness. "I think they prefer being called Wicca, Sarah," Chuck corrected as he headed over to the bed. Despite not being able to see her face, he was sure that Sarah was glaring at him. "I can safely say that today is the most surreal day of my life. It even trumps our first date."

Soft laughter filled the room. "This is the first time in years that I've felt so completely out of my league. Sure, you drove me crazy as I tried to balance my feelings for you with my responsibility to the job. But this? I guess Dad lied again. There really are vampires and werewolves," Sarah said bitterly as she clenched the edge of the blanket and her knuckles whitened.

"Our son is grown up. He's been fighting vampires and demons since he was sixteen. On one level, I'm incredibly proud of him. But I can't help but feel that we failed him. We played no role in making him the man he is today. We didn't protect him when he was out risking his life."

Climbing into bed, Chuck struggled to voice the appropriate words. It wasn't until he had tenderly wrapped his arms around Sarah that inspiration struck. "You know, despite all the training your dad gave you that makes you a kickass killer, he didn't really raise you to be a good person," Chuck stated, willing himself to continue when he saw his wife's eyes tighten as his words sunk in. "Still, from that night you placed your pistol against my head, you've been the best person I've ever known. That was all you. It was simply an intrinsic part of your character. From what I've heard today, your father is a saint compared to the couple who raised Alex. Yet he sounds as if he could rival you for the best person I know. He inherited that from you."

The speed at which Sarah's expression shifted from barely concealed rage to teary relief startled Chuck, reminding him that his wife was still full of postpartum hormones. To his relief she was content to merely snuggle against him.

"And you wonder on occasion why I married you," Sarah murmured as her breathing slowly evened out.

* * *

**October 12, 2010  
Southern California Airspace**

The sound of landing gear being deployed roused Xander from his musings. Turning his head, he saw Dawn peering with childlike wonder out the window as the plane descended over Orange County. To his dismay, the flight had gone far too quickly. Kennedy had spiked his drink shortly after he boarded only for him to wake up while the plane refueled in Balsas.

The next ten hours had been spent in near silence, to Xander's satisfaction. He was not in the mood to chat. Thankfully, Dawn had been asleep until roughly five minutes ago, discouraging all conversation in the cabin. Kennedy sat in front of him, next to the other slayer in his detail, Nai. Further ahead Ed and Tom were playing with their gear. It disturbed Xander a bit that his detail considered his visits to the United States to be as dangerous as those to Harare.

With far too much experience, Xander resisted the urge to slip his finger underneath his eyepatch and scratch his eye socket. The damn thing never stopped itching.

"Shit, today's a new day, isn't it?" Kennedy asked as she turned to face Xander.

Failing to fully suppress a smile, Xander stared back. "All signs point to the Earth continuing to rotate. So, yes, I would presume that today is a new day. Although judging from when we took off, it's been a very long new day."

Kennedy snorted as she flicked back some hair that fell over her eyes. "Before we see everyone's favorite psycho, she wants you to know that she would be the best choice for godmother." Kennedy proclaimed with barely concealed amusement. "Oh, and 'Red is a fucking dyke who would sacrifice the child to her heathen religion and B is just a plain old bitch.' At least that means I'm only a fucking dyke."

From the corner of his eye, Xander saw Dawn turn away from her window, giggling. "Yes, because I can only pray that my child will be able to whore and kill just like Faith. She's truly the role model for my kid."

"I say we just take every candidate's name and place it in a hat," Xander interjected, trying to forestall further comments on the subject. He knew Buffy was Dawn's preference. Personally, he thought the honor should belong to Faith, Kennedy or Willow. The absence of Vi's name made his heart clench. It hurt to admit, but her death haunted him deeper than those of Anya's or Cordelia's. Perhaps it was because he and Vi never became lovers; they had simply made one hell of a field team.

Up ahead, Kennedy and Nai began to furiously tap their ears as the plane entered its final descent. Super-Slayer hearing made for super-Slayer ear pressure. While tapping his ears never worked the few times they got stuffy, he supposed it distracted the Slayers from the pain until their healing kicked in.

As the plane touched down smoothly on the runway, Xander felt Dawn tug at his arm. "What?" he asked.

Dawn gave him a stern look.

"Honey, I want you to play nice with your parents," Dawn lectured, eliciting a scowl from Xander. "I know you. You're the sweetest thing when someone needs help, but if you think someone has slighted you, you can give much more than you take."

"I'm not going to act like a bastard," Xander mumbled crossly.

Dawn arched an eyebrow. "Yes, you will. I know you. I've seen you fight with Buffy enough times. So listen to me. Your parents have done nothing wrong yet. Do not act like a prick because your parents haven't been able to go nearly three decades back in time in the past three days. You will act like the sweet, lovely man I married. Are we clear?" Dawn finished, digging her nails into his skin.

"Yes, yes!" Xander assured her as the plane slowed to a crawl. For being such a "normal" girl, there was nothing scarier on the planet than his wife.

"This is Terry, your pilot, speaking," came an accented voice from the cockpit. "Somehow our plane has already cleared through customs, so we will be heading directly to our hangar. So sit on your arses for a few more minutes and we can all enjoy the sunny weather of Southern California. I would like to remind all of you, however, that odds are a massive wildfire will hit the region shortly and shoot the air quality to hell. Thank you for flying on my plane."

The interior of the plane darkened as it entered the hangar, eventually coming to a complete stop. To Xander's chagrin, Dawn immediately began to push him towards the aisle.

"There will be no hiding on the plane, coward," Dawn hissed.

Laughter could be heard from ahead as Ed and Tom disembarked, carrying their large duffel bags full of equipment. It was perverse, in Xander's opinion, how their presence – and weapons – filled the role of a security blanket for him now.

Nai fell back to escort Dawn, while Kennedy flanked Xander. All levity had left their faces, their bodies taut in anticipation of possible action. The nervous hum in Xander's head returned. This felt more like they were about to enter a hotzone than meet his purported biological parents.

Xander stepped out onto the stairway and paused. A flash of red hair was easily identifiable as Wills. She stood there, beaming and waving without a care in the world, with a blonde woman – his mother – to her left and an unknown brunette to her right. Next to the blonde (mother, he had to remind himself) stood a man with brown, curly hair. His father.

"Hey Havok! Get your braindead ass in gear so I can greet my godchild!"

Ah yes, Los Angeles was Faith territory. Xander sent her a wry smile as he went down the stairs.

The shit-eating grin on her face soothed his nerves. Unlike Wills, Faith had serious trust issues. For her to be this relaxed around his parents meant that she approved of them. Despite her sadistic tendencies, Faith really was a good judge of character.

An approaching blur of blonde caught his attention. Xander only had time to brace himself as his mother's body impacted him.

"My baby! Alex!"

This was odd. With her arms wrapped around him, she felt like Joyce. Peering down at her, Xander couldn't help but think that she looked more like his contemporary than anything else.

A tad reluctantly, Xander put his arms around his mother while she half-sobbed, half-babbled into his shirt. All comparisons to Joyce ceased when his hands brushed against a pistol strapped to her back.

What to do now? While he sometimes felt that soothing emotionally overwrought females was his best talent, he was definitely off his game. He quickly lifted his head up to look for his wife. Dawn had joined up with Faith and the mystery brunette, all three looking far too happy at his reunion with his parents. Damn, she would provide no guidance.

Looked like he would just have to follow his instincts. He gently pushed her back, making her look up at him. Her expression made his heart clench, grief seemingly etched into her face. Did she think he was rejecting her? He smiled tentatively, hoping to assuage her fears.

"Hi mom."

Xander gave no resistance when the arms embraced him once more.


End file.
